Miles
by PaperMoon2719
Summary: FORMERLY ON LADYLOSERFACE'S PROFILE: I'm scared today, more than I told you I was yesterday. Give me a moment to catch my breath, and hold me every second left. I won't make it alone, I need something to hold... Don't count the miles, count the 'I love yous'. Sequel to Talking to the Moon, Dean/OC ON HIATUS
1. Seven Devils

**_Disclaimer:_** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 3x1: "The Magnificent Seven" belong to writer Eric Kripke. The lyrics to "Seven Devils" belong to Florence Welch and Paul Epworth._

 _Tawny belongs to me._ _  
_

 _ **Holy water cannot help you now  
See I've come to burn your kingdom down  
And no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out  
I'm gonna raise the stakes, I'm gonna smoke you out**_

 _ **Seven devils all around me  
Seven devils in my house  
See they were there when I woke up this morning  
I'll be dead before the day is done**_

One week. Seven days. One hundred sixty-eight hours. Ten thousand eighty minutes. Six hundred and four thousand, eight hundred seconds.

That's how long it took Tawny to finally cave and let Bobby call Sam. Since the Devil's Gate was opened, Tawny's spent almost every waking moment tracking demonic omens. The number of unexplained cattle deaths and freak electrical storms over the past week has skyrocketed, which isn't a good sign. Then, six hours ago, Tawny had stumbled upon a story about a town suddenly overcome with locusts, had six electrical storms in two days, and a total of thirty-four local dairy cows had died sudden and mysterious deaths. She and Bobby piled into his old Chevelle a few minutes later. An hour out, Bobby started talking about how they could "really use the boys' help on this one", and after two and half hours of him mentioning it, Tawny looks up, snapping at him.

"Fine, dad. Call Sam. But I'm warning you, if Dean pisses me off, I'll shoot him."

Tawny turns her flashlight back down to the map in her lap, brushing through her hair absently with her free hand. She's a bit surprised when she gets to the ends, still not used to the fact that she'd cut off about ten inches of it. Now it falls just past her chin, looking darker than ever in the absence of the sun-lightened ends. She glances up at Bobby when she hears Sam pick up.

"Hey, Sam… watcha doin'?... You buried in that book again? Sam, you wanna break Dean free'a that demon deal, you ain't gonna find the answer in no book… Kid, I wish I knew. So, where's your brother?...What?... Well, you boys better pack it up. Tawny thinks she finally found somethin'… Tawny? Oh, she's fine, just a little…different than the last time you saw her… Alright, head for Lincoln and we'll call y'all when we get there… 'kay, kiddo. Bye."

Bobby hangs up, dropping his phone in the cup holder before he glances over at Tawny, who's been staring at him through the whole conversation.

"You want somethin', kid?" he asks, looking back out at the road. Tawny lowers her flashlight, trying not to sound too angry.

"You called Sam and didn't tell me," she says more than asks. Bobby looks at her out of the corner of his eye. "Little girl, I do a lotta things without tellin' you," he replies, and Tawny scoffs.

"Yeah, like what?"

"Two weeks ago I made myself a grilled cheese and didn't tell you." Tawny scoffs, folding up the map in her lap. "'s not the same, dad," she says, not caring that she sounds like a whiney teenager. "Why'd you call him?"

Bobby sighs, shifting in his seat. "Just to check up on them, make sure that –"

"What?" Tawny cuts in, glaring over at him. "To make sure that poor little Dean is okay? He's going to Hell, dad. I wouldn't really expect him to be throwing a party. And why were you calling to check up on him when you haven't even asked if _I'm_ okay?"

Bobby glances over at Tawny again before he slows the car, pulling off to the shoulder. He puts it into park before turning to face Tawny. " _Are_ you okay, sugarbee?" he asks softly, and Tawny shrugs. She'd planned to make some smart-ass remark, but that was before she knew he was actually going to pull over. Finally, she shakes her head.

"No, not really," she says softly, and Bobby reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear. "You wanna talk about it?" he asks, and Tawny shakes her head again, looking at her lap. She tries to will her tears away, but when Bobby runs his hand over the top of her head, she feels one slip away.

"You know," he says quietly, and she can still feel his gaze on her. "I do understand what you're goin' through, sugarbee. When your momma died –"

Tawny looks up, shaking her head furiously. "Dean's not dead yet, dad," she says hopefully, and she smiles faintly when he does.

"I know, baby girl. 's just, the thoughta you hatin' Dean, no matter how much of an idjit that boy is, is just –" he starts but Tawny cuts him off.

"I don't hate him!" she presses, shaking her head, her eyes going wide. "I just… I just need to be mad at him for a little while."

"Sweetheart, he ain't got much time left," Bobby says softly, and Tawny nods, looking back at her hands. "I know," she replies softly. Tears sting her eyes and she blinks quickly a few times to will them away.

"I need this, though. I need him to know that I can only help him if he wants it. I need him to know that even if I _do_ love him – completely and unconditionally – and that even if it meant bringing back Sam, I don't agree with what he did. I don't just need him to _want_ me back, dad. I need him to _need_ me."

Bobby and Tawny stare at each other in silence for a few seconds before Bobby finally nods. "Okay," he says, turning back to face the road. He puts the car into drive and they make their way to Lincoln.

* * *

Bobby and Tawny get to the house about ten minutes before Dean pulls up, and when he does he seems surprised to see how much she's changed in the week that they haven't been together. Even with the fact that she'd cut her hair, Tawny's changed a lot. She's started wearing make-up and traded the baggy shirts she always used to wear for tank-tops. On her left shoulderblade is a tattoo, the same protective symbol she wears on a black ribbon around her neck, now carved into her skin with a needle. She got it two days ago, and it still stings a bit. When she jumps down from the trunk of the Chevelle, the dull thud of her mother's old locket, the one with her parent's wedding picture and a snapshot of Tawny as a baby, is dulled by the beating of her heart.

"So, we're eatin' bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast, are we?" Bobby says, walking over to Dean. When Tawny gets closer she sees that, in fact, that's exactly what he has clutched in his fist. His eyes flicker to hers for a second before looking back at Bobby.

"Well," he says through a mouthful, his hand rubbing over his chin. "Sold my soul. Got a year to live. I ain't sweatin' the cholesterol."

Tawny swallows, trying to keep herself from crying or hitting Dean, maybe both. Instead, she shoves her hands in her pockets. "So Tawny, what d'you think?" Sam asks, looking at Tawny. "We got a biblical plague here or what?"

She shrugs. "Dunno yet. But it looks like this is the swarms ground zero, so let's find out," she says. She takes a couple steps towards the house, but when she hears Dean take another bite she snaps, turning around and striding over to him. She grabs the burger out of his hand, throwing it on the ground.

"Hey! I was eating that!" he protests, and Tawny rolls her eyes. "We're working, jackass," she shoots at him, ignoring his glare as they make their way onto the porch. Tawny and Sam turn, staring out over the lawn as Dean and Bobby walk over to the door. Sam lifts a hand, running it lightly through her hair. She looks up at him to see he's smiling softly.

"I like it," he murmurs, and Tawny smiles in return. Her smile quickly turns into a look of annoyance directed at Dean, however, when he knocks loudly on the door and yells 'Candygram!'. The only response, though, is the chirping of the cicadas and suddenly Tawny feels uneasy. She, Sam and Bobby all pull out guns at the same time, and the weight of her Colt in her hands soothes Tawny a little. Dean picks the lock quickly and Tawny instantly regrets standing behind him.

The smell of rotting flesh hits Tawny like a wall, turning her stomach and nearly making her lose the small breakfast she ate. "That's awful," Sam points out, and Tawny watches as Dean pulls out his own gun. "That _so_ can't be a good sign," Dean says. Tawny would agree, but it's a very good possibility she's going to throw up if she opens her mouth, so she just follows Bobby.

They duck into a bedroom, then into the kitchen and find nothing. They both make their way to where they hear Sam and Dean shuffling around, and Tawny can't help the "What the hell?" that escapes her lips when she sees the rotting corpses on the couch. She crosses the room quickly, tucking her gun into the back of her jeans before wrenching a window open. She stands as close to the mesh in it as possible, letting her eyes fall shut and taking in huge gulps of fresh air to calm her rolling stomach.

"Bobby, what the hell happened here?" Sam asks. She hears Bobby take a deep breath before answering "I dunno". Tawny jumps when she feels a gun calloused hand on the small of her back where her tank top has ridden up, and she turns to see Dean looking at her, concern in his eyes.

"You okay, b – Tawny?" he asks softly, and Tawny feels a clench in her stomach that has nothing to do with the human jerky sitting on the couch. She nods, though, straightening and pulling away from him. "Yeah. 'm fine," she says. He nods once, looking at her cautiously. She's just starting to feel like he's trying to read her mind when his eyes flicker over her shoulder. He leans closer, his chest nearly brushing hers, but just when she can feel the warmth radiating off of his body he turns, whistling at Bobby and Sam and cocking his head towards the window.

Tawny pulls her gun out again, following Sam and Bobby around to the kitchen door as Dean goes out through the front. When they get to the front of the porch, Tawny's heart leaps.

"Isaac! Tamara!" she yells, completely ignoring Dean lying on the ground as she practically runs over and embraces Tamara. "What the hell are you doing here?" Tamara asks, her accent strong, and Tawny laughs as she pulls away.

"I could ask the same," she jests, turning to Isaac. She throws her arms around his shoulders, laughing as he wraps and arm around her waist, hugging her tight enough that her feet come off of the ground. She turns to see Bobby hugging Tamara and leans away enough for Bobby to shake Isaac's hand. They're all laughing when Dean's hand shoots up, smacking against Tawny's thigh.

"Helloooo…" he says, and Tawny looks down at him, an eyebrow raised. "Bleeding here."

She throws a leg over his torso, crouching down so her rear is almost touching his chest. She reaches down, grasping his chin and turning his head. She prods gently at his nose, a little relieved when she sees there isn't any serious damage.

"Well, his nose isn't broken," she says, standing and looking over at Isaac. "Next time, hit him harder."

* * *

Tawny's in the kitchen of the house Isaac and Tamara were holed up in until Isaac's little outburst when Dean finds her. He leans against the doorframe and watches as she sets down two paper bags full of fast food and opens them, pulling a burger out and peeking in the wrapping. He's about to head towards her when she holds the burger up, not even turning around.

"Double bacon cheeseburger, no mayo, extra onion," she says and he has to stifle the chuckle at how she knew he was there. She turns around when he starts walking towards her, her brown eyes meeting his as he walks up to her, taking the food she offers him. He's about to ask how she knew he was there when she rolls her eyes.

"You aren't quite the ninja you think you are, Dean."

He smiles faintly, looking down at the sandwich before looking back up at Tawny. He feels a lump in his throat when he recognizes the look on her face. It's the same one she had after Sam left for Stanford, and Dean hates that look. Normally Tawny looks strong and, even considering the life they live, happy; but when she looks at him like that he sees that she's broken and hurting and no matter how badly he wants to take it all away he can't. He can't because he's the one who put it there. He's the one who ripped her heart out and stomped on it before shooting it with his 12-guage and then running it over with the Impala.

The night she told him that she was done, that she wanted him to walk away, he didn't want to. Dean Winchester, the king of walking out on women, couldn't move. He couldn't find the strength to pick up his feet and walk away from her. The moment she collapsed his first instinct was to go to her, to pull her into his chest and run his hand through her hair and whisper to her that everything would be okay. But a little voice in his head, one that sounded exactly like his father, strangely enough, said something that will always haunt him, probably even in Hell.

 _You did that to her, Dean. You made her hate you. That's right. She hates you. She WANTS you to burn in Hell. She's better off without you, Dean. She deserves more than you. She deserves more than a selfish LIAR._

Dean's pulled from his thoughts when Tawny snaps her fingers just under his nose. "Huh?" he says brilliantly, and Tawny raises her eyebrows. "Coke or Sprite?" she asks, grabbing two cups and holding them up. He grabs the Coke, only realizing after he's holding it that he did it on autopilot. He knows that Tawny prefers Sprite.

"Hey, Tawny?" he suddenly says quietly, setting the burger and drink down on the counter next to her. She hums, going back to digging in the bags.

"I'm sorry."

Dean feels something clench in his chest when Tawny stills, her shoulders drawing up the way a dog might bristle just before an attack. He moves toward her, but Tawny flinches away just as his hand is about to touch her shoulder. She takes a step to the side, standing with her right hip pressed against the counter.

"Dean, don't," she says quietly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking away. He steps towards her, though, reaching out, and when she takes a step back he feels tears prickle in his eyes. In all the time he's known her, she's always let him come to her, let him hold her, and now that she won't even let him touch her, it puts a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Tawny, c'mon. Talk to me," he pleads, not even the least bit concerned that his voice cracks on her name. At this point it may even help him out. But Tawny shakes her head, finally letting her eyes meet his, and he has to press his lips together hard to keep from crying when he sees the tears swimming in her eyes.

"I can't," she whispers, leaning against the counter. He watches her for a moment, watching her tears finally fall when her eyes flicker between his own, and suddenly hates himself for doing this to the only woman he's ever loved besides his own mother. He reaches up to wipe her tears away before he realizes what he's even doing, and when Tawny doesn't move away from him the tension in his chest eases a bit.

"I can't do this alone," he says softly, and suddenly Tawny's gaze sharpens. She huffs a little as she pulls away from him, her face flushing with what he immediately recognizes as anger.

"You aren't alone, Dean. You made sure of that when you decided to bring Sammy back. So don't you dare feed me that line of crap," she says harshly, and Dean's left speechless as she turns and storms out of the room. He watches her go, and cringes when he hears the sound of her boots loud on the steps before a door slams.

* * *

 **June 12, 1990 – 11:54 PM**

Tawny was starting to get tired. When she got down to the kitchen this morning for breakfast, Daddy had a plate of scrambled eggs and toast waiting for her, and when she was done eating he took her plate and told her that Uncle John had called and that Sam and Dean were spending the week with them. He'd told Tawny that they wouldn't be there til late, so she'd done her best to stay up. But now, as she sat on the couch with her Dr. Seuss books spread out along the couch, her eyes started to droop.

She hadn't realized that she'd fallen asleep until she hears Charger, their watch dog, barking at the rumble that Tawny recognizes as the Impala. She shoots off of the couch, ignoring the books toppling to the ground as she runs over to the door.

"They're here, daddy!" she shouts into the kitchen, where Daddy's probably fallen asleep at his desk, before yanking the door open. Uncle John has the Impala parked in front of the porch, and he smiles when he sees Tawny.

"Uncle John!" she shouts, and he laughs as she comes running at him, scooping her up in a hug. "Hey Tawny Bear. How're you doin'?" he asks, and when Tawny pouts he mimics her.

"Bored!" she says, exasperatedly, and she crosses her arms over her chest as best she can while he's holding her. "Why'd you take so long?!"

Uncle John chuckles. "Sorry, sweetheart. But you get a whole week with the boys. Is that okay?" he asks, and Tawny purses her lips, considering it for a moment. Finally, she nods, a grin breaking out on her face. He kisses her cheek, the beard he let grow out tickling her skin, before he sets her down.

Dean is the first one out of the car, and Tawny can tell he's been sleeping. His eyes are puffy and red, and one of his cheeks is pressed red, probably from leaning on the door. But his green eyes brighten when he sees her. He turned eleven this past January and Tawny thinks he's gonna be as handsome as Uncle John someday.

"Hey, shortstack," he chides, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. Tawny glares and pushes at his shoulder when he's close enough. "That's not my name!" she protests, and does her best to look mad when he tries to hug her, but he manages to wrestle his arms around her and Tawny finally gives in. She's smiling again by the time Sam climbs out of the back seat. He looks like he's been sleeping, too, but he's smiling widely when he sees her.

He turned seven in May, and Tawny was glad that Uncle John called from Sioux City and they got to meet at a McDonalds for Sammy's birthday. She was starting to miss him.

"Hey, Tawny," he says, and she grins at him, looping her arm with his as they walk into the house.

* * *

"Alright, detective. Thanks for letting us speak to her."

Tawny smiles briefly at the uniformed officer and walks over to her father, who's talking to the sergeant.

"Ready when you are, counselor," she says, and Bobby turns to smile at her.

"I think I've got all the information we need," he replies, and turns back to the sergeant. "Someone from our office will be in contact."

Tawny doesn't look at anyone as they walk out of the station, still trying to sort out everything in her mind, climbing into Bobby's car on autopilot. She can still feel a sort of nagging at her subconscious, like she knows what's going on but doesn't realize it. She's seen a lot, but for an entire family to die of starvation and dehydration with a fully stocked kitchen, then, in less than twenty-four hours, to hear of a girl attacked and murdered in broad daylight over a pair of shoes…

"You comin'? Or are you gonna sit there all day thinkin'?" Bobby says, and Tawny looks over at him. She rolls her eyes after a moment, and climbs out of the Chevelle. Tawny spots Sam and Dean as soon as they walk into the store.

"Whoa…" Dean says, whistling as he looks both of them over. "Lookin' spiffy. What were you? G-men?"

"Attorneys for the DA's office," Bobby corrects, adjusting his tie in the mirror behind Dean. Tawny catches Dean's eye and he smiles faintly at her, but she ignores it. She pulls uncomfortably at her skirt. "Just spoke to the suspect," Bobby continues.

"Yeah?" Sam asks, looking between them. "So, what d'you think? Is she possessed or what?"

"I don't think so," Tawny says when Bobby looks at her, and Sam furrows his brows. "There's none of the usual signs – y'know, blackouts, loss of control. Completely lucid and aware of her actions. She just _really_ wanted those shoes. "

She pauses when she meets Dean's eye again, and she has to look away when she sees his lips are pursed in that way that makes her heart flip uncomfortably.

"Daddy spilled a glass of Holy water on her just to be sure," she finishes, shrugging. "Nothin'."

"Well," Dean says, looking pointedly at one of the sales women as she walks by, and Tawny has to resist the urge to smack him. "Maybe she's just some random wackjob."

Tawny rolls her eyes. "Well, if it had been an isolated incident, maybe. But, first the family, now this?" she says through gritted teeth, and Bobby cuts in.

"I taught this girl to believe in a lotta things… Coincidence ain't one of 'em. Did you boys find anything around here?"

"No sulfer, nothin'," Sam says, and Tawny sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well, maybe somethin'," Dean suddenly says, looking over at them. When Tawny looks up he turns and glances pointedly at a security camera in the back. He looks at Sam, a smirk on his lips.

"See? I'm workin'."

Five minutes later, after Tawny sweet talked the store's male owner into letting them see the security footage, the four of them are crowded in the back office. Sam and Bobby immediately sit down and watch as Sam rewinds the footage, and Tawny walks over to a file cabinet in the back corner. She feels Dean walk up behind her and she tenses, knowing he's going to bring up the night before. Sure enough, he takes a breath and takes a step to stand next to her.

"So, about last night – " he starts at a whisper, but Tawny turns away from him.

"Drop it, Dean," she grinds out. Bobby glances at her when she walks up behind him, and she shoots him a small smile before leaning over Sam's shoulder to watch the tape. She smiles faintly when she inhales and smells the familiar soap-cotton- _Sammy_ scent she's missed, and she has a flash of him lying on a cot, pale and cold. She swallows around a lump in her throat and moves her head a little closer, their cheeks almost brushing. She can feel him lean into it until they are, and they catch each other's eye.

"Anything interesting?" Dean asks, walking up behind them. Tawny straightens, keeping her eyes on the screen despite the overwhelming urge to glance over her shoulder. Dean's standing close enough that she can feel the heat pouring off of his chest.

"I dunno yet," Sam says, and Tawny clenches her jaw when Dean puts a hand on her back and leans around her to see the screen better. "Might just be a guy," Sam continues, oblivious. "Or it could be _our_ guy."

They all watch the screen as "their guy" touches the girl's shoulder and looks suggestively at the victim, and this time, when Tawny and Dean lock eyes, they finally have the same expression.

* * *

 **June 13, 1990 – 2:46 AM**

Tawny's trembling when she wakes up. She glances down at the sleeping bags on her bedroom floor, first at Sammy, who's still asleep, then at Dean. He's awake; she can see his eyes glimmering from the light shining through her window from outside. She reaches up and rubs at her eyes, not particularly surprised to find tears staining her cheeks. It's what she usually finds when she has nightmares about the night The Demon killed Mommy.

Tawny looks over and meets Dean's gaze again, and this time he waves her over. She smiles faintly, throwing back the covers and climbing out of bed. She pads softly across the room, being careful not to make the floorboards creak as she circles around Sammy's head. Dean's holding the sleeping bag open for her when she gets to him, and she climbs in.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Dean asks her in a whisper as she worms her way in, snuggling against him. She nods her head once he's settled. His eyebrows furrow, his tired eyes filling with concern. "Wanna talk about it?"

Tawny shakes her head, laying down fully, pressed into his side.

"Thank you, Dean," she whispers back, and he kisses her head before resting his chin on top of it.

* * *

Tawny's just drifted off when she hears a loud bang on the roof of the car and she jolts awake, sighing in relief when she sees it's only Sam. He grins at Dean through the window, laughing as he pulls the door open.

"That's not funny," Dean complains, then grunts uncomfortably when Sam shoves his seat forward.

"Yeah, uh, all right, so –" he starts quickly, climbing into the back seat. "John Doe's name is Walter Rosen. He's from Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Went missing about a week ago."

"The night the Devil's Gate opened?" Dean asks, glancing back. Sam tugs Tawny to his side and she feels how cold his hands are, so she grabs them and holds them in her own, rubbing them warm. He leans against her, resting his cheek on her head.

"Yeah."

"So you think he's possessed?" Dean asks, and Sam looks down at Tawny.

"It's a good bet," she says. Sam takes his fingers and threads them through hers, holding her hands in his lap. She's never told him, but she loves that Sam is such a cuddle bug. Sam leans away enough to look Tawny in the eyes.

"So, what? He just walks up to someone, touches them, and they go stark raving psycho?" he asks, and Tawny can here the disbelief in his voice. She shrugs.

"Those demons that got outta the gate –" Bobby cuts in, and Tawny looks up at him. "They're gonna be able to do all kinds of things we haven't seen. Sam slumps back against Tawny slightly. "You mean the demons we _let_ out."

Tawny squeezes Sam's knee. Oddly enough, she hasn't really sat down to think about how _he's_ taking all of this – the demon's, Dean's deal, Tawny leaving. Looking back, Tawny's starting to think that's who she should have been thinking of when she walked out. After all, the entire ordeal was completely centered around Sam.

Tawny opens her mouth to console Sam, but finds herself looking out of the windshield at Dean's soft "Guys".

Walter Rosen, or whatever's possessing him, is crossing the parking lot. "All right. Showtime," Dean says, and leans for the door. But –

"Wait a minute," Bobby says before he can even reach for the handle. Tawny glances at him and sees he's staring at the door of the bar. "What?" Dean asks, and Bobby looks at him.

"What did I just say?" he asks, and turns back to the door. "We don't know what to expect outta this guy. We should tail 'im til we know for sure."

"Oh," Dean objects, gesturing towards him. "So he kills someone and we just sit here with our junk in our hands?"

"We're no good dead!" Bobby yells, and Tawny's not sure it's just about this case. "And we're not gonna make a move until we know what the score is."

Tawny looks across the parking lot, pondering telling them to stop screaming, when she sees a familiar truck. "Dad," she warns, leaning up between the front seats and pointing in Isaac and Tamara's general direction. "I don't think that's an option."

"Dammit!" Bobby shouts, smacking the steering wheel. They watch as the couple walks through the door, and Dean turns to look at Tawny. "What d'we do?" he asks, and Tawny shrugs, but then has a horrible thought.

"They're hunters. And we can't just sit here," she says, but the three of them just look at her. She raises her eyebrows and looks between them. "We can't just sit here and let'em die, can we? I know I can't live with that."

* * *

Tawny's surprised she hasn't hit Tamara yet. Dealing with her screaming that they had to go back in the car was bad enough, but now that they're back at the house and Tamara is trying to convince _them_ to go back, Tawny's pretty close to punching her teeth in.

"I left my husband bloody on the floor!" she screams, and Tawny grits her teeth. Sam rounds Tawny's back, and she's suddenly grateful for his ridiculous patience because, if he weren't here, _Tamara_ would have been bloody on the floor from Tawny's fists.

"I understand that, but we can't go back," Sam says, and Tamara shoots him a look.

"Fine. Then you stay. But I'm heading back to that bar," Tamara says. Tawny opens her mouth to tell Tamara that no one is going anywhere, but before she can Dean is walking between Sam and Tamara.

"I'll go with her."

"It's suicide, Dean!" Sam yells, and Dean turns around. "So what? I'm dead already," Dean quickly counters, and Tawny sees red. She strides over and grabs Dean by the jacket, slamming him against the doorframe.

"Why d'you wanna die so bad, huh?" she yells, inches away from his face. His eyes grow wide as she stares him down. "It's like you just can't _wait_ to get down there, can't _wait_ to burn in a river of fire forever. What the _hell_ did we do to you to make you hate us so much that you can't wait a motherfucking _year_ to die?"

Tawny's seething, her knuckles almost purple where she's gripping his jacket. When he doesn't make a sound she leans back a little, her voice lower but still not quite at it's normal volume. "How're you gonna kill 'em, Dean? Can't shoot 'em, and you can't stab 'em. They're not just gonna wait in line to get exorcised!"

"I don't care!" Tamara suddenly yells, and Tawny rounds on her. "We don't even know how many of them there _are_!" Tawny yells, but Bobby steps in.

"Yeah, we do," he says, holding a book open. "There's seven."

And suddenly everything in Tawny's mind clicks. Seven. The family that died of starvation with a pile of food yards away; sloth. A woman willing to kill in broad daylight for a pair of shoes: envy. Isaac drinking an entire bottle of drain cleaner: gluttony.

"Oh, God," Tawny breathes, and Bobby looks up at her, nodding. "Do you have any idea who we're up against?" Bobby grinds out, looking furiously between Dean and Tamara. Dean raises his eyebrows. "No. Who?"

"The Seven Deadly Sins, live and in the flesh!" Bobby nearly yells, and Dean huffs. Somehow Tawny knows exactly what's coming next but before she can stop it –

"'What's in the box?!'" Dean quotes, looking directly at her, and she's never wanted to beat the crap out of him with a two-by-four more than right now. "Brad Pitt, Se7en? No?"

Bobby slams the book shut, shoving it into Dean's chest as Tawny looks at him, hoping her disapproval is clear. She figures it is when Dean shoots her a guilty look. "What's this?" he asks innocently, and when he opens it Tawny sees the cover.

"Binsfeld's Classification of Demons," she answers, and grabs the book. She flips about halfway through before handing it back to Dean. "In 1589, Binsfeld identified the Seven Deadly Sins – not just as human vices, but as _actual devils_."

"The family," Sam says, and Tawny looks at him. "They were touched by Sloth. And the shopper –"

"Envy," Tawny finishes, turning to nod towards the next room. "Pretty sure that's who's crashing in the livingroom. It's been bugging me all day that I couldn't figure it out," Tawny says, looking at Bobby.

"Well, I couldn't suss it out at first until Isaac. He was touched with an awful gluttony," Bobby answers, and he looks at Tamara. Tawny glances at her to see she's rubbing the back of her neck.

"I don't give a rat's ass if they're the Three Stooges or the Four Tops," she yells at Bobby, and Tawny feels her anger start to pick back up. "I'm gonna slaughter every last one of them!"

"We already did it _your_ way!" Tawny yells, bearing down on her. "You burst in there half-cocked, no _idea_ what you're doing, and then you're surprised when Isaac's dead?! What the _hell_ were you thinking? And now you wanna go back? These demons haven't been topside for half a millennium! The way they think, we're talkin' Medieval, dark ages shit! No one _alive_ has ever faced anything remotely _like_ this! So we're going to take a breath and figure out what our next move is!"

Tawny's chest is heaving and she's glaring at Tamara, who's glaring right back, and, even though she meant everything she said, she knows Tamara's hurting. She steps closer, putting a hand on Tamara's arm.

"I'm sorry about Isaac, Tamara," Tawny continues in almost a whisper. "I know what it's like to watch the man you love walk himself into his own grave… and it sucks. But you're strong, and you _will_ get through this."

Tamara stares at her for a second, tears shining in her eyes, before she walks away. Tawny turns, inadvertently catching Dean's gaze. She sees his eyes are shining with tears of his own. Without a word Bobby and Sam follow Tamara into the living room, leaving the two of them alone with a tension in the air thick enough to cut.

"Tawny," Dean breathes, stepping forward and holding his hand out. Tawny wants to take it. She wants to melt into his chest and hold him until the hurting stops. She wants to go back to the way things were before Sam died. She never thought that she would want to be holed up in some seedy motel room, pressed up against Dean, skin on skin, so damn bad.

It takes all of her strength to shake her head.

"I can't, Dean," she whispers, sniffling. "I'm sorry."

* * *

Sam and Dean are in the back bedroom when Tawny finds them. Dean glances briefly up at her from his spot on the floor, but she doesn't try to catch his eye. Instead, she looks at Sam and clears her throat.

"Uh, Sam, dad needs some help getting stuff upstairs ready," she says quietly, hoping that Sam gets how badly she needs to talk to Dean alone. She wasn't going to. She was perfectly fine keeping her distance until they dealt with the Seven, then sending him and Sam along their merry way. But something registered with her when Dean offered to sacrifice himself for the umpteenth time that night.

Thankfully, Sam understands and he rises, reaching out to squeeze Tawny's wrist lightly as he passes. Dean watches her curiously as she walks over to pick up the bottle and flask, bringing them over and dropping down next to Dean. She can feel his eyes on her as she starts to fill the flask.

"Finally decide to talk to me?" Dean asks roughly, loading another salt round into his favorite sawed-off. Tawny looks up, just holding eye contact with him for a moment before gently setting down the bottle and flask. She takes a deep breath, trying to will her tears back, before looking up at Dean. She sees he's set his gun aside and is giving her his full attention.

"You can stop pretending to be brave, Dean," she says, and when Dean opens his mouth to protest, Tawny shakes her head. "Don't even try to play this off as something else. 'Take Tamara and head for the hills'?" she asks, knitting her eyebrows and letting a tear fall.

"Why do you think I'm pretending?" he asks, and Tawny huffs out a laugh.

"This is _me_ you're talking to Dean. I know you. I know how you act when you're scared, and right now you're absolutely terrified. Do you honestly think you can trick dad and me and Sam?" she asks, and when he reaches for her hand she lets him take it. "We know you better than anyone, Dean."

Dean considers her for a moment, but then shakes his head. "You don't know me as well as you think you do, Tawny," he finally says, and pulls his hand away.

"Why are you so Goddamn bull-headed?" she asks, thoroughly frustrated. Dean smirks lightly at her and Tawny glares. "It's not funny, Dean. This is your life we're talking about."

His gaze softens a little and she sees his eyes bounce to her mouth before her leans forward. Tawny can't help the sigh that escapes her chest when his lips press against hers. His tongue brushes her bottom lip and she opens up for him, moaning into his mouth when it brushes across her teeth. It's a wonderful feeling, like coming home, when his hand comes up to tangle in her hair. She's just about to climb into his lap when she hears the static from the radio. They pull away from each other, turning to look at it, Dean's hand dropping to rest against her neck gently.

"Here we go," Dean says, and Tawny feels cold when he pulls his hand away and reaches for his gun. He tugs her to her feet, bending to hand her the flask of Holy water before walking over to the window and peeking between the slats, and Tawny shakes her head, feeling like she hasn't gotten anywhere with him.

* * *

"Well, _you_ look like hell warmed over."

Tawny glares at Dean. "You try exorcising all damn night and see how you feel," she snaps, glancing down into the mass grave they'd dug. She knows how awful it is to think, but she's a tiny bit relieved that they don't have three more demons to exorcise. She was absolutely exhausted.

"Any survivors?" Sam asks, and Bobby answers. "Well, the pretty girl and the heavy guy, they'll make it. Lifetime'a therapy bills ahead, but, still…"

"Well, that's more than you can say for these poor bastards," Dean says, and Tawny looks at the book of matches in his hand.

"Guys, that knife – what kind of blade can kill a demon?"

Tawny glances up at Sam. To be honest, she kind of put mystery-woman and her magic knife out of her mind, focusing on saving the possessed, but now that Sam brings it up, she realizes how much it bothers her.

"Yesterday, I woulda said there was no such thing," Bobby answers, and Dean looks at Sam.

"I'm just gonna ask again," he says, looking at Sam. "Who _was_ that masked chick? Actually, a more troubling question would be 'How come a girl can fight better than you?'"

"Hey," Tawny protests, glaring when Dean looks at her. "I can fight better than Sam."

"Yeah, but you're not a –" Dean starts, laughing, but falls short when he sees the look on her face. "I, uh – _you_ are a _woman_. Not a girl, is all I –"

Tawny shakes her head, unable to smile at his backpaddling. But, naturally, Sam has to ruin the mood.

"Yeah, well, if you want a more troubling question, I got one for ya. If we let out the seven deadly sins, what else did we let out?"

Tawny leans against Bobby, wrapping her arm around his back and laying her cheek on his shoulder. "You're right," Dean agrees. "That is troubling."

He lights the matches and tosses them in, the smell of burning clothes and flesh hitting Tawny almost immediately. They stand there for a minute or two, just watching the fire, before Bobby squeezes Tawny and pulls away.

"Hey, Sam. I got somethin' I wanna show ya," he suddenly says, and Tawny can tell by his voice that he's just trying to give Tawny and Dean some alone time. He'd asked her back in the house if she was going with them, and Tawny said no. She just wasn't ready.

"Sure," Sam answers, and Tawny watches them leave.

"So," Dean says when they disappear into the house, and he turns to look at Tawny. "You all packed or do we need to go pick up some stuff for you?"

Tawny feels her chest clench when she sees the hopeful look fade from his face when he sees her expression.

"You're not coming with us?" he asks softly, and Tawny shakes her head.

"No, Dean," she answers. She glances at the flames, choosing her words carefully before looking back at him to see he's staring at his feet. She steps closer, putting a hand on his cheek and urging him to look at her.

"I love you. You know that. But I'm not ready to just go back to the way things were, baby," she says softly, watching as tears filled his eyes. "Things will never be the same again. I know you want me to say that it wasn't your fault and everything's gonna be okay, but I can't lie to you. So I'm gonna go back with dad."

She wipes away the tear that's fallen down his cheek, leaning up to press a kiss to his mouth. She leans her forehead against his, squeezing her eyes shut to keep her own tears at bay.

"Bye, Dean."


	2. Bluebird

**_Disclaimer:_** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 3x3: "Bad Day at Black Rock" belong to writer Ben Edlund. The lyrics to "Bluebird" belong to Christina Perri._

 _Tawny belongs to me._ _  
_

 _This little Bluebird came looking for you  
Said that I hadn't seen you in quite some time  
This little Bluebird, she came looking again  
I said we weren't even friends she could have you_

 _Don't you think it was hard_

 _I didn't even say that you died_

 _But it wouldn't have been such a lie_

 _Cause then I started to cry_

To say that Dean misses Tawny would be an inaccurate statement. He misses the original Scooby-Doo. He misses the little red truck that dad got him for his third birthday that wound up getting left at some no-name motel in BFE when he was about ten. He misses the days when he could curl up in the back seat of the Impala and actually fit.

But Tawny…

He pines for Tawny. He longs for Tawny. He believed that he and Tawny would ride off into the sunset, the Impala standing in for a white horse. He thought that at the end, after the yellow-eyed demon was dead, that things would suddenly become easy. He'd been waiting for that his entire life; that singular moment when the weight of the world would finally be lifted from his shoulders.

The last 23 years, Dean's felt like he's been under water. The pressure of being dad's perfect little soldier, of taking care of Sam, of knowing that he would never have a home because of that yellow-eyed bastard… it smothered him. Tawny had personified the hope of one day leaving all of that behind: all of the rent-by-the-month houses, the motel rooms, even the nights that they couldn't afford either and had to sleep in the damn car like vagrants would all be worth it in the end.

At least, that's what he told himself. Even though Sam was the one who was always striving for normalcy as a kid, Dean yearned for it. He'd never admit it to anyone, even Tawny, but that was his dream. His dream was to have a nice house with a two-car garage and a white picket fence. He wanted the 2.5 kids and the dog and the full time job. Hell, he even wanted the bills. And it was all because he knew that if he did have it, if he did get the Leave-It-To-Beaver-life, that Tawny would be his June.

He'd had a dream the night before Sammy died. He was driving an SUV and he parked in the driveway of a nice but modest house. He walked in and a little boy immediately ran up and grabbed his leg, holding on for dear life. A Golden Retriever bounced around his legs, barking happily at him. He scooped up the little boy, smiling when he saw his own green eyes looking back at him. The curly brown hair that topped his head could only belong to one person, the only one he wanted. He walked into the kitchen, where Tawny was feeding a baby girl, one that cooed happily and grinned at him when he walked into the room. When Tawny looked over at him he knew that this was it. This was The Life, the one he'd always wanted.

And right now, standing in Lisa Braden's driveway, watching her hug her son, Dean feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest. When he saw Ben for the first time, a little boy who walks and talks and flirts like Dean, his biggest fear wasn't potentially being a father. It's true that he doesn't want to have kids with the life he's living, but that wasn't what set his stomach in knots and made it hard to breathe. It was knowing that, should Ben be Dean's, that Dean would have to tell Tawny. He would have to tell Tawny that nine years ago, when Tawny was only in the ninth grade, Dean had spent a weekend doing to Lisa what he really wanted to do to her. He knew, even then, that the reason he was attracted to Lisa was because she had chocolate brown eyes like Tawny's and silky brown hair that had a golden-red glint in the sun like Tawny's and a smattering of freckles across her nose just like Tawny. Even now, as he watches Lisa in the setting sun, he can imagine Tawny doing the same thing with one of their own kids.

"What the hell just happened?" Lisa asks, and Dean looks at her, then at Ben.

"I'll explain everything if you want me to," he says, then shakes his head, knowing it a bad idea, "but, trust me, you probably don't."

When Dean looks down at Ben again, he sees the kid grinning up at him. "The important thing is that Ben's safe," he adds, ruffling Ben's hair. Lisa looks back up at him, sniffling.

"Thank you."

And when she launches herself into his arms, the first thing that runs through his mind is that she's too tall to tuck her head under his chin like Tawny can, and he misses that. He misses how well he and Tawny fit together, like their two perfect pieces cut from the same cloth. He pulls away after a moment, turning to look at Sam, hoping that he can be that obnoxious little brother when he needs to be, just so Dean doesn't have to break another woman's heart. But, naturally, all Sam does is wave.

"I'm gonna give you guys some time," Sam says, and Dean turns back to Ben and Lisa as he hears Sam back the Impala out of the driveway. They make their way into the house, and Dean stands in the foyer, leaning against the edge of the staircase as he watches Lisa make Ben a sandwich in silence. Once the kid's sitting at the dining room table, his headphones playing Metallica loud enough to block out the horror story that Dean's about to tell Lisa, she finally walks back over to him.

He tells her everything he knows; everything about the kids and the Real Estate lady, and she's silent for a moment. "Changelings?" she finally says, looking back up at Dean. He nods.

"You know how I never mentioned my job? _This is_ my job," he says, and for some reason he feels happy that she looks hesitant.

"I so didn't wanna know that," she whispers, tears brimming her eyes.

Dean doesn't know how to respond to that. No matter how much of an ass he's been, even recently, Tawny's always looked at him with pride when he's doing his job. It's something she's always supported. So instead of saying anything he just nods.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Lisa asks, and Dean nods again.

"Yeah. I think he'll be fine," Dean says, and as Ben takes a huge bite out of his sandwich, Dean can't help himself. He turns to Lisa. "Okay, seriously… I mean, you're a hundred percent sure that he is not _mine_ , right?"

Luckily Lisa laughs, nodding. "You're off the hook. I did a blood test when he was a baby." They both look back at Ben, who's munching on the crust. "There was this guy – a bar back in a biker joint."

Dean shoots her a look.

"What?" she asks innocently. "I had a type. Leather jacket, couple'a scars, no mailing address – I was there. Guess I was a little wild back then… before I became a mom."

Dean feels a tug in his chest when she looks back at Ben, and he suddenly misses Tawny more than ever. He tries his best to pull himself together when she looks back at him. "So, yeah. You can relax."

Dean looks back at Ben, at the truck he's got in his hand, and suddenly sees Tawny. He has no idea why, but he has a flash back to the night before everything went to hell in a hand-basket. They'd stopped at some no-name hotel and had gotten their own room. Then they made love… truly made love, the kind that they never had the chance to do. He took his time, the roll of his hips slow and deep, and he'd brought Tawny over the edge again and again and again before finally giving in himself. She'd fallen asleep afterwards and he'd watched her for hours, the sheets pooled at her waist, her lips parted slightly, her hair falling softly on the pillow. He wanted that again.

"I… I swear you look disappointed," Lisa says softly, and Dean turns to her. He can feel tears prickling his eyes and he has to look away. "Yeah, I don't know," he mutters. "It's weird, y'know – your life. I mean, this house and kid. It's not my life… never will be. Some stuff happened to me recently and, uh…" he says, and when he looks at her he sees Tawny, wishes he could be apologizing to Tawny.

"Anyway, a guy in my situation – you start to think, y'know. I'm gonna be gone one day and what am I leavin' behind besides a car?"

"I dunno," Lisa says. "Ben may not be your kid, but he wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. That's a lot if you ask me."

Dean looks at Ben one more time, then back at Lisa before turning and heading towards the door. He stops short, though, and turns back to her. "Y'know, just for the record, you've got a great kid. Any guy would be proud to be his dad."

Dean isn't expecting it when Lisa rushes at him, her lips pressing against his in a mostly chaste kiss. She tastes soft, like peaches and summer, and his longing for Tawny is almost enough to knock him on his ass. He misses the way she tastes, intense, like cinnamon. He looks down at her when she pulls away and notices her eyes aren't as dark as Tawny's. And her freckles aren't as concentrated to the bridge of her nose. And she doesn't look him in the eyes when she asks him to stay.

And he realizes that it's because she _isn't_ Tawny. She's never going to be Tawny.

"I can't," Dean whispers, and he feels his throat tighten and he prays to a God he doesn't believe in that he'll be able to do this without crying. "You see, there's this girl," he continues, and it makes it even harder when Lisa looks back up. "She's, uh, she's _the_ girl, y'know? And I screwed it up and I've gotta get her back because… because she's my world. I can't lie to you and to me and to Ben. I don't belong in this life."

And he turns and walks out of Lisa Braden's life again without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

"Hey, kid. Wake up."

Tawny cracks open an eye, wincing at the bright light in the room. She realizes that she must have fallen asleep on the couch again and looks around. Bobby covered her with an old tattered blanket at some point, so she knows that she must have been out cold for a while.

"I need you to go to Buffalo," Bobby says, and Tawny pushes herself up, yawning widely. She looks down at her lap and sees a Hellhound staring up at her. She'd been trying to find something, _anything_ , to help Dean out and so far had come up with nothing.

"Why?" she asks, yawning again as she closes the book and tosses it onto the armrest.

"John rented a storage locker up there a few years back and someone broke into it. I need you to head up there and make sure there isn't anything missin'," Bobby says, dropping back down into his chair. Tawny stands and stretches, looking at him quizzically.

"How would I know if there was anything missing, old man? I didn't even know he _had_ this storage locker," she asks, blatantly ignoring the glare Bobby shoots her way.

"He made up an inventory list. And I'm not old."

Tawny turns just as she gets to the bottom of the stairs, looking at him seriously.

"Did they have electricity when you were a kid? Did you live next door to _dinosaurs_?!"

* * *

Tawny rubs her lower back as she hops down from her truck. Driving eighteen hours straight, by herself, wasn't exactly an easy feat. She's mildly surprised when she sees the Impala parked out front. She didn't really expect the boys to beat her here, although as she walks into the small office she realizes that she has no idea where their last job had been. Sam had called her a few days ago asking about Changelings, but he didn't mention where they were. She's sure it's because she didn't want to know.

"Well, hey there, pretty lady. What can I do ya for?"

Tawny smiles at the older man behind the desk, pulling out the new ID Bobby had given her.

"Hi," she replies, walking up and leaning against the counter. "I just need to get into my unit. Number 1454."

Tawny watches as the man punches the keyboard of an ancient desktop computer. His brow furrows and Tawny hopes she doesn't have to break in. She hadn't worn the right boots. But then he looks up at her and smiles.

"You with those fellas that came in a few minutes ago?" he asks, picking up her ID. Tawny smiles faintly.

"Yeah."

"Well, you don't look nothin' like 'em… One of 'em yer husband?"

Tawny almost laughs at the hope in his eyes when she shakes her head. "The shorter one's my ex."

"Well, d'ya need me to show you the way?" he asks, and Tawny shakes her head.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you," she replies. She walks into the back, the dust she kicks up making her nose tickle uncomfortably. She rubs at it as she punches the button for the elevator, pulling at the door before walking into it. She hits the button for the fourth floor and sneezes. Once it clanks to a stop Tawny climbs out as quickly as possible. She doesn't really trust it and she isn't very fond of heights.

"Dude, how could you forget the pick?"

"Hey, man, you're the one who's supposed to grab it, remember?"

"Dean, since when do we divvy up who grabs what? You told me you were gonna get it."

Tawny rounds the corner to see Sam and Dean arguing, as usual, and rolls her eyes as she digs into her pocket.

"How about a key, morons? Would that help?"

Sam smiles when he sees her. "Tawny! What are you doing here?" he laughs, holding his arms open for her. She hugs him.

"Apparently all the hard work, as usual," she jests. When she looks at Dean he looks away and holds out his hand. "Well, hello to you, too," she mutters, dropping the key into his palm. He quickly pops the lock, sliding the door open as Tawny pulls her mini-Maglite out of her back pocket. She shines it into the room, the beam crossing Sam's as they slowly focus on the five-foot Devil's Trap about six inches in.

"No demons allowed," Sam says quietly, but Tawny's focused on the blood.

"Why is there always blood? Why can't there ever be, like, a giant chocolate bar? Just once, I'd like a giant chocolate bar," she whines softly, and Dean does a terrible job of covering his laugh with a cough. The three of them take a step in and Dean crouches, running his fingers along a trip-wire.

"Check this out," Dean says, and Sam follows it with the beam of his flashlight. It finally ends at a shotgun propped inside the mouth of a boar's skull. Tawny scoffed. "Whoever broke in here got tagged. Guys, I love your dad with all my heart, but the man scares me. He's _dead_ , and he scares me."

"Yeah, dear old dad," Dean agrees, still crouching. He shines his flashlight on the ground, following the prints. "I got two sets of boot treads here. Looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buck shot in 'im –" he stands "it looks like he kept walkin'."

"So, what's the deal?" Sam asks as they walk further in, carefully avoiding the tripwire. "Dad would do work here or something?"

"Living the high life, as usual," Dean scoffs. "Speakin' of, what're you doin' here, Tawny?" She looks at him as he takes a closer look at the shotgun rig.

"Dad got a call about the break-in. He asked me to come out here and make sure that there wasn't anything missing," Tawny answers. She spots a binder on the edge of an old desk and grabs it, flipping it open. Sure enough, it's the list Bobby told her about. Only rats got to it before they did and it's in shreds.

"Looks like our inventory list was tasty," she says, holding it up. Sam and Dean look at it, raising their eyebrows. "Inventory list?" Dean asks, and Tawny nods, tossing it back onto the desk. The resulting dust cloud makes her sneeze again. Dean picks up a small trophy and wipes at the front of it.

"1995," he says, and Sam whips around. "No way!" he exclaims, grabbing it out of Dean's hand. "That's my division championship soccer trophy… I can't believe he kept this."

"It was the closest you ever came to bein' a boy."

Dean walks up next to Tawny, who's going through a pile of papers on the desk, and his face lights up when he sees an old sawed-off shotgun laying on the desk.

"Oh, wow!"

He picks it up, holding it out to show Tawny like it's some kind of prize. "It's my first sawed-off. Made it myself. Sixth grade." He laughs as he cocks it, and the addition of even more dust makes Tawny sneeze, yet again. She glares at Dean, turning her flashlight back on and following Sam to the back of the room. She sees Sam push open what was once probably a very secure metal door, and she notices the chain that kept it closed was cut. She ignores Dean as he walks in behind her until he breathes "Holy _crap_ "

When Tawny turns, she realizes that it isn't exactly the term she'd use. Lined up against one wall is a full arsenal of weapons. Blades of every size, enough firearms to start a small militia, a handful of grenades, and –

"He had land mines…" Dean breathes, and Tawny walks up next to him.

"Which they didn't take," she points out. "Or the guns."

"Guess they knew what they were after, huh?" Dean says, and for the first time his eyes meet hers. When he does, Tawny feels a knot tighten in her throat at what she sees in the green depths: guilt, sadness, confusion, self-loathing, fear. Basically every bad emotion she's ever seen in his eyes, making them dark and flat and dull.

"Hey guys check this out."

Tawny pulls her gaze away from his and turns to Sam, trying to control her breathing. "See these symbols? He used binding magic."

"Yeah, they're Curse Boxes," Tawny replies, looking at them closer. "Looks like dad made them."

"Curse Boxes…" Dean ponders, looking at Tawny. "They're supposed to keep the evil mojo _in_ , right? Kind of like the Pandora deal?"

"Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object."

"Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, y'know, dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up."

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "This must be his toxic waste dump."

Tawny nods, taking a closer look at some of the symbols. She definitely recognizes them. "A lot of hunters have storage lockers. Y'know, somewhere they can store the bad stuff. Pretty good in theory, not so much in practice."

"So your dad has one?" Sam asks, and Tawny laughs. "Have you seen our house? It's like one _giant_ storage locker."

* * *

"I can't believe you touched it, Sam."

"I didn't mean to! I swear! I just…"

"Just – _what_ – Sam?! Just wanna _die_?!"

"No, Tawny! The guy was killing me! What'd you expect me to do?!"

Tawny huffs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. Okay, yeah, she can't exactly _remember_ if the rabbit's foot is deadly, and, yeah, it did keep Sam and Dean from getting _killed_ in that apartment, but… Sam should know better. Tawny looks over at him and when she sees he has the full puppy-eyes out, she groans.

"Saaa—aaam," she whines, glaring at him halfheartedly. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asks, completely innocent, and Tawny rolls her eyes again, leaning into his side.

"Like you're some puppy I just yelled at."

Sam's face only falls more and something inside Tawny aches. "Okay, okay. It wasn't your fault, you didn't know. I'm sorry," she finally says softly, adding a squeeze to his knee for good measure.

They fall back into silence, Sam leafing through John's journal as Tawny goes through her own memory, trying to figure out anything she can. To be honest, she was trying to avoid calling her dad in on this one for as long as possible. It isn't because she's avoiding _him_ , per say. She just doesn't want him to get his hopes up that she's staying out on the road with the boys.

The door opening startles her, and she mentally scolds herself for letting her mind wander when Sam is obviously going to get in trouble because of this thing. It's just the way he is. When Tawny looks over at Dean, he's pulling something out of a paper bag.

"I'm not finding anything on it in dad's journal and Tawny can't remember Bobby ever mentioning a rabbit's foot," Sam says. Tawny groans when she sees the scratch tickets in Dean's hand, looking at him disapprovingly. She's fully expecting Sam's "Dean, come on…" when Dean holds the colorful cards up.

"What?!" Dean asks, and when Tawny and Sam both shoot him looks, he raises his eyebrows. "Hey, that was _my_ gun he was aiming at your head. And my gun don't jam," Tawny snorts, drawing a glare from Dean "—so that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking _themselves_ out – _also_ a lucky break."

He pulls the top ticket from the pile and holds it out for Sam. "Here. Scratch one." Sam looks at him warily, but finally snatches it from Dean's hand when Dean counters his "Come on…" whine. "Scratch and win," Dean enthuses.

Tawny sighs and hands Sam a quarter out of the cup of change Dean keeps on the dash, looking back over at her idiot ex. "Look, Dean," she says, watching as he leans over and watches Sam. "It's gotta be cursed somehow. Otherwise your dad wouldn't have locked it up."

But Dean ignores her, snatching the ticket out of Sam's hand and looking at it. "Twelve hundred dollars," he mumbles, and Tawny grabs the ticket out of his hand. Sure enough, it's worth $1200. "You just won $1200!" Tawny looks at it for another few seconds before glaring up at Dean when he lets out an excited shout. When he looks back at Sam, he grins wider.

"I dunno, man. It doesn't seem that cursed to me."

He holds out another ticket, which Tawny grabs. "Hey!" Dean protests, but Tawny turns her back to him, dodging his hands skillfully as she scratches at it with a nickel she grabbed. She holds it up for Dean to see when she uncovers the $1500 printed on it. She raises an eyebrow.

"See? I can do it, too."

Dean scoffs, trying to grab the ticket out of her hand, but she sticks it in her jacket's inside pocket before he can. He looks at her reproachfully for a second before handing Sam another ticket. He laughs loudly when Sam wins another $3000, and Tawny wonders if he'll ever grow up.

* * *

Tawny watches as Dean finishes off his third banana split. She really isn't too surprised that he still has the appetite of a high school football team, but it still amazes her that he can eat that damn much. As Dean pulls the spoon out of his mouth, he makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and Tawny feels something stir in her belly. She really hates to admit it, but she misses the sex something awful.

"Bobby's right," Sam suddenly says, looking up from his laptop. Tawny glances at him, turning to lean against the wall and prop her feet up on his lap. "This lore goes _way_ back," he continues. "Pure hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. It has to be in a cemetery under a full moon on a Friday the 13th."

Dean makes a move like he's going to say something important, but he just says "I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's." through a mouthful of ice cream. Then he groans, pressing the backs of his fingers to his forehead with an obvious brain-freeze. Tawny rolls her eyes, picking at the last of her fries while a waitress refills Sam's coffee. After relentless flirting, the waitress walks away, shooting one last look over her shoulder as both boys lean forward and watch her go.

"Dude, if you were _ever_ gonna get lucky…" Dean says, then he looks at Tawny briefly. She rolls her eyes, shifting her weight to pull her feet off of Sam's lap. As soon as he reaches for his coffee cup, though, Tawny watches wide-eyed as he dumps it in his lap, shoots out of the booth and promptly smacks a tray out of a server's hand.

Tawny and Dean look at each other before turning back to Sam. "How was that good?" Dean asks, and Tawny looks at Sam's jacket pocket a split second before she climbs to the edge of the booth and shoves her hand in, but she only comes up with an empty lining. Without a word, they get up and run as quickly as they can to the parking lot. They're barely out the door, however, when Sam slips and falls onto the hard concrete.

"Wow. You suck," Dean says, and Tawny smacks him on the arm before walking over and helping Sam up.

"So, what? Now his luck turns bad?" Dean asks, and Tawny looks up at him as soon as she gets an arm around Sam's waist. She shrugs, only taking a step when Sam's hand is wrapped firmly around her own waist.

"I guess."

"I wonder _how_ bad…" Dean mutters, turning and heading toward the car. Tawny rolls her eyes, walking with Sam the rest of the way. She can't help but notice the way his hand is falling on her hip, just the way Dean's would whenever he had his arm around her waist.

* * *

They're just leaving the thieves' apartment when Tawny's phone rings. She glances at the caller ID and sees it's Bobby, and Dean falls into step with her just as she picks up.

"Hey there, daddy-o. What'cha got?" she asks, ignoring Dean's stare. Sure, she's grown closer to Bobby since the break-up, but they've always been moderately affectionate.

"Great news, baby doll. Wasn't easy, but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick," Bobby says, and Tawny looks at Dean, raising her eyebrows.

"Daddy, that's, uh, great but…" she says, turning to look at Sam, who now has a massive wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. "Sam lost the foot, dad."

"He what?!" Bobby yells, apparently loud enough for Dean to hear. He holds out his hand and Tawny hands him the phone, glancing at Sam as he walks over to a storm grate and starts to scrape the gum off of his shoe.

"Bobby, listen," Dean starts turning away. "Listen, this hot chick stole it from him." Tawny rolls her eyes for him to see and catches his eye. "I'm serious. In her mid-20s, and she was sharp, y'know? Good enough to con even Tawny – yeah, I know how good Tawny is at picking up a con. She only gave the guys she hired a name – probably an alias or something. Luigi or something," he says, and Tawny rolls her eyes again.

"Lugosi," she corrects, and they both turn to look at Sam, who's still trying his best to scrape off the gum. He repeats the name and then pauses, obviously listening to whatever Bobby's saying.

"Oh, Bela Lugosi, that's cute."

Suddenly Tawny remembers her plain as day. It was about three years ago, just outside New Orleans. She was tracking a witch with another Hunter by the name of Chris Parrish (the fact that she was sleeping with him at the time had nothing to do with the hunt, of course). They'd followed her back to a room she was renting in some little B&B when Bela had interfered to get some hex bags to sell. Tawny and Chris were almost killed in the process, something he'd never really forgiven her for. He went his own way after that, but Tawny's still plotting revenge against Bela for what she'd done.

"She knew about the rabbit's foot. Is she a hunter?" Dean asks, and Tawny rolls her eyes. She can hear Bobby talking and holds Dean's gaze. "I guess she's back," Dean says quietly. "Great."

"Thanks, Bobby. Again," Dean finally says before he hangs up, and when they bother turn to look at Sam, Tawny doesn't know whether her hearts breaking or if she's about to burst into laughter. Sam looks at his hands before sullenly looking up at them. His bottom lip is poked out and his bangs are falling into his eyes, which are sad and dull. He looks like the world's most pathetic puppy, and all Tawny wants to do is hug him.

"What?" Dean asks, looking at him.

"I lost my shoe," Sam mumbles, and when Tawny looks down, sure enough, one foot is clad only in a black sock. Finally Tawny breaks and she shakes her head, poking her own lip out sympathetically. "Come here, baby," she says softly, and ignores Dean as he huffs and stalks off towards the car. Sam carefully hobbles towards her and Tawny catches him around the waist, helping him to get to the car balanced almost entirely on one foot. As soon as they slide into the front seat, Dean turns on the engine and shift the car into drive.

Tawny settles against Sam's side, smiling softly to herself when he leans his head against hers, his sock-clad foot resting gently on top of her boot. They make it to an intersection heading to the busiest part of town when Tawny's cellphone rings. She glances at the caller ID and hands the phone to Dean when she sees that it's Bobby, knowing that he's gonna want to talk to Dean anyways.

She can hear Bobby talking to Dean and snuggles closer to Sam. It's hard to believe that only three weeks ago Sam was laying on a mattress in the middle of some run down, abandoned house, cold and lifeless. The image shocks tears into Tawny's eyes and she turns her head, laying her cheek in the crook of his neck. She's able to compose herself just as Dean pulls into a motel. Dean thanks Bobby one more time and hangs up, handing the phone back.

"All right, Bobby's got it on pretty good authority that this Bela chick lives in Queens. So it'll take me about two hours to get there," he says, glancing at his watch.

"So, what're we doin' then?" Sam asks, and Tawny looks over at Dean.

"You, my brother, are stayin' here 'cause I don't want your bad luck gettin' us killed," Dean says, and Tawny clears her throat.

"Oh, don't even say it, short stack. You're stayin' here with Sammy so you can keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't fall on any kitchen utensils."

They pull around to the room, Dean careful to check everything three times as he walks in. "What am I even supposed to do, Dean?" Sam asks, and Dean grabs his sleeve. "Nothing, nothing," he urges, tugging Sam across the room. "Come here. I don't want you to do _anything_."

Tawny sits down on one of the beds and tugs off her boots as Dean moves a chair out to the middle of the room. "I want you to sit right here and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn _off_ the light. Don't even scratch your nose. You need anything, just tell Tawny." Dean glances at her as he heads towards the door, giving her a knowing look.

Tawny stands, walking over to him. "Don't worry Dean. I got 'im. You go take care'a Bela," she says, touching his arm lightly. He puts his own hand over hers, squeezing her fingers lightly, and then he's gone. Tawny locks the door behind him, sliding the chain lock into place after turning the deadbolt. When she looks back at Sam, he's scratching his nose.

"Hey! No scratching!" Tawny snaps, a smile tugging at her lips when Sam huffs at her. She walks over to him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He leans into the touch a little, smiling up at her. It turns a little sad, though, his browns furrowing just enough for Tawny to see.

"What were you thinking about – back in the car?" he asks, and Tawny sighs.

"You," she replies softly, and when her lip starts to tremble Sam pulls her into his lap. "I was thinking about you after… when you were…"

"When I was dead," Sam finishes, wrapping his arms around her waist. Tawny nods, wrapping her arms around Sam's shoulders. He looks at her, his eyes seeming to fade from green to blue and back again before Tawny's eyes and before Tawny knows what she's doing, her mouth is on Sam's in a kiss she didn't know she wanted. Looking back, Tawny will wonder why she didn't feel guilty for kissing Sam when she was so in love with Dean. It just feels _right_ to kiss him though, feels _good_ to have his tongue fluttering against hers and his hand tangling in her hair, and, God help them both, the pure, untainted, complete _love_ flowing between them.

And for the briefest moment, a moment Tawny will long for the rest of her life, everything feels right.

* * *

If Tawny had a dollar for every time she'd been tied up, and not in the enjoyable way, she would have a very nice house. Or a kickass car.

She tried reasoning with the two guys who'd broken in, but God knows that never works. So she'd gone for her gun, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Sam, who was out cold on the floor, the drapes wrapped around him. Now here she was, _duct taped_ to a damn chair, a handtowel-turned-gag stuffed in her mouth.

Duct tape? Really?

She's trying to figure out how she's going to get them out of this mess when she hears the annoying one say something about Gordon. That's when she starts cussing.

"Gordon?" Sam asks, shocked. "Oh, come on…"

He starts blabbering about a mission from God, and Tawny snorts just before the man slaps Sam. That's when the screaming starts. She tries to tell him to keep his Bible-banging son-of-a-bitch hands off of Sam, but all that comes out is a muffled "Eeoondsoahim!". She struggles against the duct tape, only getting a fraction of an inch closer to Sam before the other guy, the one with the accent, walks over and leans against the back of her chair, keeping her in place. The crazy one hits Sam again and Tawny damn-near screeches.

"You got anything to calm this one down?" the one behind her drawls, and the crazy one looks at her for a second.

"Got some chloroform in my bag," he says. "Not too much, though."

And the last thing she hears before darkness hits is the man's fist connecting with Sam's jaw.

* * *

"Dammit, Sam. If you don't sit still I can't do this right."

Tawny pulls away from Sam, waiting for him to stop fidgeting. After seeing Bela in the cemetery and having $46,000 worth of scratch tickets stolen, Tawny offered to take Sam back to a motel and let Dean go hustle some pool at a local bar. Now she's sitting on the edge of the bathtub across from a shirtless Sam, who's sitting on the lid of the toilet, sewing up his arm. Once he gets comfortable again, Tawny leans in and goes back to stitching him up.

"When I see Bela again, I'm gonna shoot her in her fucking kneecaps," Tawny practically growls. Sam sighs, looking at her as she finishes and ties off the deep gouge in Sam's arm. He sits patiently, only hissing a little when Tawny pours a liberal amount of whiskey on it, then tapes a piece of gauze over it. Finally, Tawny packs everything back into the first aid kit she keeps in her truck and looks at Sam.

"Done," she says softly, and for old times' sake, presses a kiss to the skin above the gauze. They hadn't discussed the kiss in the other motel. Tawny still wasn't sure what her feelings meant. Yes, she still wants Dean. She still loves him with all her heart, wants to spend the rest of her life with him.

But she wants Sam, too.

"Look, Tawny, about earlier," Sam says, turning to look at her. "I'm sorry. 's just… after everything with Dean… I know you love him like you'll never love me, and I shouldn't have kissed you. I'm sorry."

Tawny looks at him, her eyes searching his, and when she sees how wounded he looks, her heart breaks just a little bit more. It's wrong, she knows it's wrong. She can't have them both. She _has_ to choose.

Or does she? Her life has been so royally fucked up that it would almost be a _normal_ reaction to have some twisted, wacked out relationship with two brothers. She knows in reality that it won't ever work, but that doesn't stop her from climbing into Sam's lap again, and pressing her lips to his again, and sliding her tongue across his lower lip again.

Sam groans into her mouth, and she can tell it's taking all of his willpower not to rip at her clothes. So she does it for him. She pulls away enough to grab one massive hand and slide it up under her tanktop.

"Do it, Sam," Tawny murmurs, her forehead pressed against his. He tilts his head enough to lick across her bottom lip and into her mouth, and Tawny knows how to end his hesitation. "Want you so bad," she whispers.

The reaction she gets is the exact one she wants. Sam growls, both hands grasping her waist as he attacks her mouth. He lifts her to give her enough room to straddle his lap and then he's standing, one arm under her thighs, holding her to him, the other hand tugging at her shirt. She breaks away from his lips long enough to pull it over her head, then they're kissing again, a wet, sloppy clashing of teeth and sliding of tongues. He ducks though the bathroom door without either of them hitting the top of the doorway, a feat Tawny's both amazed at and glad for, and stumbles over to the bed. He manages to get Tawny's bra off before gently laying her down. Tawny scrambles up to her knees, tugging at Sam's belt, peppering kisses along his chest and abs as she gets it and his jean's open.

"Oh, my God," she breathes when she gets his jeans tugged down just over the swell of his ass. She knew Sam was big, she just didn't remember him being _this_ big. When she looks up, Sam's looking away through his bangs, his cheeks pink.

"That was a good 'oh, my God', baby. Definitely good," she whispers. When he looks at her, she tilts her head, silently asking for a kiss. His tongue almost immediately meets her own as she shoves at his jeans and boxers, getting them down his thighs to let gravity do the rest.

Sam pulls away, mumbling a quick "Your turn" before he's tugging at her jeans, getting them off in record time. He tosses them over his shoulder, neither of them caring in the least where they land, and then he's crawling over Tawny, settling between her spread thighs.

"C'mon, baby," Tawny urges, her fingers brushing through his hair to tangle in the silky strands. Sam leans down to press his lips to hers again, his tongue delving in to wrap around hers, both sliding together in a careful dance. He balances his weight on one forearm next to her head, sliding his other hand down to guide his head to her opening. He pauses again, long enough to pull away, and when he slides into her Tawny's glad he did.

She gasps, feeling her muscles stretch and flutter around him, but what she's focused on now is the look on Sam's face. His lips part, his forehead creasing in concentration and Tawny knows he's trying hard not to just slam into her and take like she knows he wants to. Once he's buried to the hilt in her tight, slick channel, he pauses again, letting her get used to the invasion. It's a pause she doesn't need.

"C'mon, Sammy. Fuck me already," she says. He rolls his hips once, almost experimentally, and when Tawny cries out softly and brings her calves up to rest gently against his hips, he's obviously urged on. He picks up a quick rhythm, pounding into Tawny hard enough to shift her up the mattress a few inches with each deep thrust into her.

It doesn't take long for the slow burn of orgasm to pull at Tawny, and she pulls away from his mouth. "Roll over?" she asks, and Sam grins. He manages to get them rolled over, still buried in Tawny. She leans forward, lacing her fingers with his as she starts to ride him. She catches his gaze, holding it even as her orgasm finally hits, and through the haze she can feel Sam pulsing and swelling inside her as he spills his seed deep in her channel.

She collapses on his chest, nuzzling the soft skin under his jaw. "Love you," he murmurs. Tawny sighs. "Love you, too. Sammy."

He tugs them both up to the head of the bed, pulling the sheets up enough to cover them. Sam's breathing quickly evens out and Tawny knows he's asleep. She props herself up on her elbow, running her finger along one side of his jaw. She slides the pad of her thumb over the swell of his lips, the flesh still slightly swollen and kiss-bruised. She thinks of Dean and expects a feeling of dread to wash over her, for guilt to plague her mind, but when it doesn't she wonders why. She shakes her head softly, pressing one last kiss to Sam's mouth as she moves to climb out of the bed.

It only takes Tawny a few minutes to dress and gather her things, picking up her truck keys off of the table by the door. She shoves a hand in her pocket and feels the sharp edge of her scratch ticket. She pulls it out, looking at the bright red and purple piece of paper, then takes a step towards Dean's bed. She lays the scratch ticket on his pillow before pulling her phone out of her pocket and texting Dean.

 _Leaving motel. Sammy's sleeping._

She pauses, looking between the bright glowing screen and Sam, then she adds _Don't be mad at him. It was my fault._

She hits send and walks out into the cool night air, tears stinging her eyes as she leaves yet another Winchester behind.


	3. Open Arms

**_Disclaimer:_** _Sam, Dean, Bobby, and any original canon belong to Eric Kripke and the CW. Lines from episode 3x4: "Sin City" belong to writer Robert Singer and Jeremy Carver. The lyrics to "Open Arms" belong to Steve Perry and Jonathan Cain._

 _Tawny belongs to me._ _  
_

 _Living without you, living alone  
This empty house seems so cold  
Wanting to hold you, wanting you near  
How much I wanted you home  
Now that you've come back  
Turned night into day  
I need you to stay_

 _So now I come to you with open arms  
Nothing to hide, believe what I say  
So here I am, with open arms  
Hoping you'll see what your love means to me_

When Tawny opens the door two days later to take out the trash and sees the Impala pulling up, she feels like she's going to be sick. Dean looks at her as she tosses the bag into the trashcan by the porch, and Tawny can tell immediately that Sam told him. The fact that Sam won't look at her and has his mouth pressed into a tense line doesn't give _anything_ away, of course.

Tawny's at the steps to the porch when Dean gets out, and she's not too shocked when he gives her the cold shoulder, ignoring her completely as he walks up to the door.

"He isn't mad at you, y'know," Sam says as he walks up to her.

"No? Then why'd he pretend I'm part of the porch, Sam?" she counters, and Sam sighs.

"He's mad at himself. And me. But mostly himself," Sam answers softly, and Tawny shakes her head. "He _should_ be mad at me, though," Tawny mumbles. She mentally kicks herself when Sam's shoulders slump a little and he looks at the ground.

"Oh, God, Sammy. I didn't mean that – " she starts, but Sam shakes his head and holds a hand up. "No, Tawny. You're right," he cuts in. He glances at the door and Tawny does the same, seeing that its still slightly ajar. When she turns her eyes back to Sam, she takes a deep breath.

"Sam, I'm sorry. This is all my fault," she says softly. Sam doesn't say anything, just looks at her. She can tell he knows that she's right. This thing between them – all three of them – was bound to get all mixed up at some point. With all of the boundaries that have been pushed, the things they've done to – and for – each other… well, it was only a matter of time before Tawny was forced to make the choice between Sam and Dean.

"You two comin' in here, or are ya gonna stand out there gabbin' all day?" Bobby asks from the open doorway. Tawny sighs and nods, somehow finding no comfort when Sam's hand falls to the small of her back and gently guides her back into the house. She sees Dean sitting on the couch rifling through his duffle briefly before Bobby comes up behind her.

"When are you gonna go talk to that boy? Don't you think you've punished him enough?" he says softly, but Tawny can still here the concern in his voice. She looks at Bobby for a second, then they both look at Dean, who'd apparently sensed them talking about him.

"Stop starin'," Dean mumbles, and when he stands with a handful of clothes and heads for the downstairs bathroom, Bobby nudges her towards him.

Her feet feel like they've been dipped in lead as she follows him. She tries to think of something –anything – to say, but all she comes up with is "I'm sorry" and she knows that's nowhere near good enough. She catches up with Dean just as he's closing the door, and she puts her hand against it to stop him.

"Can I talk to you?" she asks softly, and Dean looks at her. She fully expects him to slam the door in her face, and probably lock it for good measure, but after a couple seconds he finally nods, waving her in. _Then_ he shuts and locks the door.

They stand there for almost a full minute before Tawny finally speaks up. "Dean, I'm sor–" she starts, but Dean cuts her off.

"Don't," he snaps. He slams the clothes down on the counter and looks at her. "Look, Tawny, I get that I hurt you, I know I did. That's why you left me. But seriously? I mean, did you sleep with Sam as payback?" he demands, bearing down on her. Anger burns at her and she glares at him.

"What you mean is 'did I _use_ Sam', and no. No, I didn't. I would never _use_ Sam," she seethes, so close to him their chests are almost touching.

"But you slept with him!" Dean says, his voice getting louder. Tawny rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, Dean, 'cause you've _never_ used sex as a way to avoid talking about your feelings," she scoffs, and Dean glares at her.

"He's my fucking _brother_ , Tawny. Not just some guy."

"He's the only person I could turn to who I didn't have to explain anything to. He already _knew_ why I was hurt. You'd rather me take a job somewhere just so I can get laid?" she asks before she knows what she's saying. She wants to slap a hand over her mouth, but what's said is said. Dean's eyes narrow.

"Did Sam –" he starts, but Tawny cuts him off.

"He didn't have to, Dean. I _know_ you, remember? When Sam wouldn't tell me where you were I figured it out," she says, and she has to pause to swallow back a lump in her throat. "So, why didn't you stay with her? Obviously she's worth it if you tracked her down like that."

Dean's glare softens and he visibly deflates, and when he reaches out for her, Tawny turns away.

"Oh, God, Tawny. I – It wasn't like that. I was just – We – God, Tawny, I'm sorry…" he finally murmurs. Tawny feels tears prickling her eyes when his hand finally touches the small of her back lightly, and she barely tames the urge to turn and bury her face in his chest. Instead she lets out a shaky breath and turns slowly toward him. She notices he doesn't move his hand, so by the time she's facing him, his arm is wrapped around her waist and their chests are pressed together.

"Me too, Dean."

He finally hugs her, and to Tawny it's the best feeling in the world – it's coming _home_. They stand like that for about a minute, Tawny hugging his waist, her face pressed into his neck, Dean with one hand just above her jeans, the other tangled in her hair, bent close enough to press his mouth and nose against the strands.

He finally pulls away, the hand in her hair coming around to tuck it behind her ear. "Look, Tawny. I know we can't go back to normal, but can we at least be friends again?" he asks, and Tawny considers him for a moment.

"I miss you," he finally confesses quietly, and Tawny feels tears spring to her eyes again. "I miss you, too," she whispers back, and she returns Dean's smile. They stand there like that for a few seconds before Dean pulls away.

"Okay, now go away so I can shower in peace, woman."

* * *

An hour later Sam and Tawny are sitting in the kitchen, laptops open and books and papers scattered everywhere. Dean and Bobby are in the study working on the Colt, just like Bobby's been doing almost every night for the past month. Tawny yawns as she stands, crossing the kitchen to get another cup of coffee.

"I think I may have found a case," Sam mentions absently, shuffling through a pile of weather maps.

"Really?" she asks, trying not to sound too disappointed. Truth be told, she really did miss _both_ the boys while she and Dean weren't on speaking terms. She was hoping that they'd be here at least over night, but from the way Sam has the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he re-reads a newspaper article, they'll probably head out in a few minutes.

"Yeah, definitely a case. Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop, two suicides plus a mass murder… I'd say it's a case," Sam says, looking up at Tawny. She nods and raises her eyebrows, waving him over to the study without having to ask why he was telling her and not Dean. They both walk over to the study and Tawny walks in, heading over to stand behind Bobby.

"Hey," Sam says, shuffling around with his duffle. Tawny tries to ignore Dean tracking her movements.

"Hey, what's up?" Dean responds.

"Might've found some omens in Ohio," Sam says from the other room, "Dry lightning, barometric-pressure drop."

"Well that's thrilling," Dean responds, and Tawny grabs the die he's obviously looking for, walking over to hand it to him.

"Thanks, babe," he mumbles, and Tawny smiles. Even if it's on Dean's version of auto-pilot, she's always liked him calling her "babe". Every other guy who she's been with has only even done it once; she's always hated being called anything other than her name. But when Dean does it, it sends a familiar tremor down her spine, whether it's in the throes of lovemaking or asking her to pass him a wrench with he's bent under the hood of the Impala.

"Plus some guy blows his head off in a church and another goes postal in a hobby shop before the cops take him out. Might be demonic omens," Sam says, walking up to Dean's other side.

He looks up at Sam. "Or just a suicide and a psycho scrapbooker," Dean counters, and Tawny gets the feeling that he's _trying_ to stay.

"Yeah, but it's our best lead since Lincoln," Sam urges, and this time Dean doesn't even look up.

"Where in Ohio?"

"Elizabethville. It's a half-dead factory town in the rust belt," Sam answers quickly, and Dean looks up.

"There's gotta be a demon or two on South Beach," he complains, but Tawny knows him well enough to know that he's not complaining about missing an opportunity to lie on a beach. Sam humors him though, his eyes flickering to Tawny's with a grin turning up the corners of his mouth. "Sorry, Hef. Maybe next time."

He looks over at Bobby, whose holding the grip, hammer and frame of the gun in his hand. "How's it goin', Bobby?" Sam asks, and Bobby looks up at him.

"Slow."

"I tell ya," Dean chimes in, not even looking away from the bullet he's casting. "It's a little sad seeing the Colt like that."

"Well," Bobby drawls, twisting it around. "The only thing it's good for now is figuring out what makes it tick."

"So what makes it tick?" Sam asks immediately, and Tawny grins when Bobby slowly looks up at him. He doesn't say anything, and Sam holds his hand up and waves him off. Dean grins at Sam, too, before looking at Tawny. He nods at her, and she walks over, taking the bullet mold from him.

"So, if we wanna go check out these omens in Ohio," he asks, standing. "You think you can have that thing ready by this afternoon?" Sam laughs and Tawny grins as Bobby looks up slowly again, this time glaring at Dean. Dean just looks at him expectantly.

"Well, it won't kill demons by then, but I can promise ya it'll kill _you_ ," Bobby counters, and Sam and Tawny look at each other with identical grins. Dean smiles and shakes his head, grabbing his jacket.

"Alright, c'mon," he says, turning towards Sam. "We're wastin' daylight."

Tawny sets down the mold on the table, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I'll walk you out," she offers, and Dean's hand settles low on her back as she passes him. "See ya, Bobby," Sam tosses over his shoulder, but Bobby stops them as they walk through the door way.

"You boys run inta anything – _anything_ – you call us," he says, and the boys nod before Dean guides Tawny out of the house. They make it out to the porch in silence, Dean's hand resting just above the waist of Tawny's jeans. Dean shoots Sam a look and he pulls his hands out of his pockets.

"Well, uh, stay safe, Tawny," he says quietly, pulling her into a small hug. Dean's hand stays where it is. Tawny laughs.

"Aren't _I_ supposed to be telling _you_ to stay safe, Jolly Green?" she jokes, and when Sam pulls away he's smiling. He nods and rolls his eyes, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Tawny's forehead. After a few seconds, Dean clears his throat. Sam mumbles one last goodbye and walks over to the car, so Tawny finally turns to Dean.

"Look, Dean, what I said back there… I'm not asking for you to completely ignore what Sam and I did –"

"And I won't-"

She raises an eyebrow at him. " _But_ ," she continues, and she notices his eyes narrow just slightly, the way they do when he's really concentrating on what someone's saying. "I need you to understand that I have things to think about, too."

Dean looks away for a moment, bringing his hand to his mouth, rubbing his chin. When he looks back at her she sees something in his eyes, but she can't pinpoint what it is.

"So, you work on forgiving me while I work on forgiving you? That's what you're saying?" he asks, and there's no hint of sarcasm in his voice. So Tawny nods.

"Yeah, Dean. That's what I'm saying," she answers softly. Dean nods, blowing out a breath she just realizes he'd been holding.

"Alright. I can work with that," he answers. She half expects him to walk to the car without another word, so the chaste kiss that he presses to her mouth comes as a complete surprise. She doesn't even have time to return it before he's pulled away and is headed down the porch steps. He's almost to the car when Tawny calls out to him. He lifts his eyebrows at her, his green eyes catching in the bright afternoon light.

"Don't do anything stupid, ya idjit."

* * *

Tawny looks up at sound of two shots. The smell of the gunpowder and the soft sound of the creek remind Tawny of childhood, and she can't keep the grin off of her face. When she was a kid, maybe 10 or 11, Bobby would bring her, Sam and Dean out back here to get in some target practice. It was always summertime, so she'd kick off her shoes and sit at the edge of the creek with her feet in the water. Dean would usually splash her at some point, starting an all-out water-war between the three of them.

Tawny sees Bobby fidgeting with the site, and when his third shot is off key too, Tawny giggles.

"What're you laughin' at, kid?" Bobby drawls, not looking at her. Tawny grins.

"Nothin'. Just wondering if the gun is still off, or if you're just gettin' rusty in your old age."

Bobby turns and makes a face at her, about to tell her off, but a female voice startles them both.

"Cute piece," a blonde says, standing in front of Bobby's sand-bag target. Tawny stands, her hand going to the small flask of holy water tucked into her belt.

"Who are you?" Bobby asks, and the blonde ignores his question.

"Won't stop a demon, if that's what you think."

Tawny narrows her eyes. "How the hell would _you_ know?" Tawny asks, but she already knows the answer. Blondie isn't exactly sending out Hunter signals, which means…

"Oh, I don't know," she says sarcastically, and looks down for a moment. When she looks back up, her black eyes are all Tawny needs. She pulls out the holy water, rolling the flask in her fist, ready for a fight.

"Call it an educated guess…" she finishes innocently.

"Well, ain't I lucky, then?" Bobby says, not taking his eyes off of mystery-demon. "Found a subject for a test-fire."

She laughs, and Tawny wants to smack her. "Luck had nothing to do with it. But, hey, by all means… Take your best shot," she challenges, holding her arms out. Bobby pauses and Tawny momentarily ponders taking the gun from him and shooting the bitch herself. But she doesn't. The demon looks away annoyed before glaring at Bobby.

"Are you gonna stand there like a pantywaist, or are you gonna shoot me?!" she yells, and before she finishes her question there's a hole in her chest. Tawny's chest constricts slightly when the demon doesn't drop. She just stands there looking offended that Bobby actually shot her.

"Ouch. That smarts a little."

Tawny rolls her eyes, sick of the bullshit, "What do you want?" she demands, stepping up next to Bobby. The demon approaches the two of them slowly.

"Peace on earth. A new shirt." She stops a few feet away from them. "Now… do you want me to help you out with that gun or not?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Tawny sees Bobby's eyes narrow. "Alright. You wanna help, help."

Blondie pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and hands it to Bobby. "There's a couple spells we're gonna have to work. It's probably best we do 'em out her since they can get a bit, uh… messy. I'm sure you have all this in your Walgreens for the Weird."

Bobby takes the list, looking back at Tawny, who nods. She locks eyes with the demon as Bobby walks away.

"So, you're Dean's pretty little lady," she says, and Tawny narrows her eyes.

"I don't belong to him, if that's what you mean," Tawny counters. The demon laughs.

"No, cause you're a _strong_ woman. Don't need no man, right?"

Tawny glares and says nothing. There's a few seconds of silence, each of them sizing up the other, before the demon speaks.

"Look, honey. Your man sold his soul. Boo-frickin'-hoo. But we've still got problems, so you need to suck it up and get back out there. You're a damn good hunter. Good enough to worry most of the big guys out there."

Tawny can tell she's hinting at something, but she can't quite put her finger on it. Blondie rolls her eyes.

"You ever stop to think that the demons in charge are using this to their advantage? Getting you to step back to they can steal second?"

Tawny's eyes widen a little before she can stop them, but she quickly composes herself. "What d'you mean?"

Blondie laughs, shaking her head. "He didn't tell you, did he?" she asks, and Tawny raises her shoulders.

"Tell me what?" she asks, and she's shocked by the brief look of sadness that passes over the demon's face.

"He really didn't tell you," she says softly, and Tawny steps towards her, suddenly sick of all the bush-beating.

"Tell me what?!" she demands.

"He didn't just make a deal to get Sam back. Half of Dean's deal was to keep you safe, which means keeping you out of the game. It's a win-win situation. They get Dean Winchester, and you get taken off the board. Make sure the queen can't protect the king, and it's a guaranteed checkmate."

* * *

The entire time they're driving to Ohio, Tawny spends staring at her reflection in the window. She's pissed at Dean, even though she isn't sure she has a right to be. The whole situation is so incredibly fucked up that Tawny doesn't know how to think half the time. She and Dean should be fighting over which apartment to buy, not whether or not he should have sold his soul.

Tawny looks up as they pass the cheery 'Welcome to Elizabethville!' sign, and the happy family painted in the background seems to be mocking her. She resolves to shoot it when they leave.

"You sure that GPS tracking thing is gonna work?" the demon, who'd introduced herself as Ruby, asks from the back seat. Tawny doesn't answer, only balances her laptop on her knees as Bobby pulls into the parking lot of a coffee shop boasting free wifi. Luckily they don't have a network password and within a few seconds she's on Dean's cell carrier's website, punching in all of his information.

"Okay, it says he's on the outskirts of town. Just follow the main road," Tawny says, looking up at Bobby.

Five long minutes later, Bobby parks the car down the street from where Dean's cell is and they all climb out of the car, Bobby holding the Colt. Tawny circles around and takes her salt-round loaded 12-guage out of the trunk. She shoves a few extra rounds in her jacket pocket before the make their way to the house. She spots Sam first, breathing a sigh of relief. She never likes it when Sam called Bobby. It meant they (usually meaning _Dean_ ) were in over their heads.

The last few seconds before a confrontation are always Tawny's favorite time during a hunt. Opposite of what people would think, everything slows down for Tawny during those ten seconds. The air becomes crisper, her heartbeat sounds louder, and she can feel the blood pumping through her veins. Years of her father's training pays off, letting Tawny plan her movements with plenty of time to change up the play if she has to. But once Bobby's first shot misses the priest's head and shatters a statue's instead, everything speeds up, Tawny cocks the gun and before she can pull the trigger she feels the invisible grasp and is hurtling towards a wall of the house. She hears the crunch of glass and looks up to see Sam sprawled across the windshield of a car. She can hear voices, but she doesn't take the time to figure out what they're saying.

The next minute flies by in a blur of Sam, gunshots and candlelight, and when time finally goes back to its normal pace, Tawny, Sam and Dean are standing in a basement with two bodies. They spend some time looking at each other, Tawny feeling words trying to form themselves, but they don't. It seems they never do. So they all leave in silence, the bodies of the priest and his lover still on the floor.

* * *

Tawny's sitting on the hood of the Impala when Dean finally makes it back to the hotel. Bobby had asked her if she minded him talking to Dean alone, so she went back to the motel. Sam had invited her in, but she declined. She's spent enough time sitting around in motels waiting for Dean.

She hears Dean's whistle before she sees him, and when she looks up she has to squint against the sunlight bouncing off of another car's windshield.

"Not every day I can get a hot girl on the hood of my car," Dean says, closing the last few feet between them. They look at each other for a while, Dean's eyes flicking up to the scrape across her cheek she doesn't remember getting.

"Your dad tells me you're back in," Dean finally says softly. Tawny looks down and sees his hand flex, knowing he wants to touch her. He doesn't.

"Yeah. I'm back in," she says. When she looks back up at his face, he's studying hers. She sees the question in his eyes and he speaks it even though she knows he knows he doesn't have to.

"Why?"

Tawny sighs and squints across the parking lot, a gust of wind blowing her hair off of her forehead.

"Short answer or long?" she asks, and Dean sighs.

"Tawny, when has the short answer ever gotten us anywhere?" he asks, and she can hear the frustration in his voice. So she looks down at her feet and then looks back up at him.

"You can't ask me to quit, Dean," and she has to hold up a hand to keep him from interrupting her. "This is my life, and quite frankly I'm sick of everyone telling me how I'm supposed to live it. Yeah, I live out of motels and eat shitty diner food and have to sleep with a knife under my pillow. But, damn it, I don't care. I don't care that I spend more time on the road than anywhere else. I don't care that my two best friends bicker more than an old married couple. I don't care that I'll never own a house or go to PTA meetings or drive an SUV."

Tawny jumps down from the hood of the car, pressing herself up to Dean. She cups his jaw with both hands and feels hot tears stinging her eyes.

"I don't care because there's a guy who takes care of me, and loves me so much it hurts him. He drives too fast and listens to loud music and drinks more than he should, but I love him, too. I want to spend my life with him, and if that life is this one, so be it. I'll live this clusterfuck of a life. I'm not quitting on you, Dean. So shut up, go get Sam and let's put this shithole in the rear view mirror. 'Cause it's you and me, baby. Forever."

When their mouths meet, Tawny can't help the sob that breaks free. Dean pulls away after a few seconds, pressing their foreheads together. Tawny grasps his wrists where they're at her temples, and the sensation of his fingers in her hair is the best feeling in the world. She feels his lips on the tip of her nose before he laughs.

"Did you mean to sound like a chick flick, or did that just happen?" he asks, and Tawny pulls away enough to smack his shoulder. "Don't ruin the moment, asshole."


End file.
